by Meghan Quinn
“Thank you,” he says right before taking a big bite from the top of his vanilla-and-chocolate twist.
Good God, why was that so sexy to watch?
Mouth open, just takes what he wants. My mind goes to him biting me, my neck, down my chest, to my breasts. Him not asking, but just knowing exactly what I need in the moment, taking and pulling every last ounce of—
“I feel like a real dick that you got this and I stayed in the car.”
Get your head on straight, Kate. Sheesh.
Clearing my throat, I say, “If you left the car, we’d never have made it out of the store. It was easier this way. Plus, I got to treat you, which I’m sure doesn’t happen very often.”
“Not really, no.” He swipes at the ice cream with the tip of his tongue. And I watch his tongue closely. Swirling, flicking, enjoying the cold of the ice cream, almost as if he’s alluding to something else, something that I’m sure he’d be really good at. Something I haven’t had done to me in a long time. I clench my thighs together, willing my libido to please take a break.
“Do you ever wish someone would pop into your life and spoil you?” I ask.
I smile jokingly at him, but his face is completely serious when he says, “No, but I wish someone would pop into my life that I could spoil shamelessly.”
Oh.
I swallow hard. What would that be like? To be spoiled by Walker Rockwell?
Intense would be my guess. No, more than intense. The man is an elite sportsman, so having his focused attention, his spoiling, would be exceptional. Matchless. I’m almost wistful here.
Walker doesn’t seem to be the type who would show up with flowers and call it a day, but rather spoil his girl in other ways, with the hold of his hand, the heightened gaze of his dark eyes, or the well-thought-out words being whispered closely to her ear . . .
“Have you ever had a girlfriend?” I ask, thinking the question is really stupid. “I mean, of course you have. I don’t know why I asked that.”
“Not recently, not since going professional,” he answers honestly. “Once you start making a name for yourself, you start to realize how many ingenuine people you meet along the way. All they want is a piece of your fame, your money. They don’t actually want you.”
“I wish I could be surprised by that, but I’ve been around my fair share of people who make connections with other human beings just to get something they want. It’s the reality of the world we live in. When you meet fame, it’s hard to distinguish between the people who really care about you and the people who are just using you.”
“Yeah.” He leans against the door, facing me, his large body scrunched up in the tight space. He takes another bite out of his ice cream and says, “But when you meet someone who’s truly genuine, it’s hard not to become attached.”
His eyes meet mine and silently I read him—I’m talking about you.
And the thrill that one look gives me is dangerous. I shouldn’t be this excited to have him looking at me like that, to know exactly what he’s trying to portray without saying it. But it does excite me, because even though I’m walking a fine line that could cost me my job, for the life of me, I can’t stop myself from gravitating toward him.
“Are you attached, Walker?” I swallow hard, wondering what the hell I’m doing, but I can’t help myself when he looks at me with his eyes so soft, not their usually hardened and angry way.
Better yet, do I want to know the answer?
It’s not as if I can do anything about his answer.
But I also don’t think I can go without knowing the truth.
I’m playing with fire, I know this. I’m testing the waters, and I’m sure the outcome isn’t going to be in my favor. I’m going to end up getting hurt somehow.
But does that stop me?
With bated breath, I lift my eyes and wait for his answer.
He rests his head against the window of the car and lets out a sigh. “Yeah, I am. I’m attached and it’s fucking painful.”
Oh God.
My pulse picks up as I slowly wet my lips.
On a whisper, I ask, “Why?”
“You know why,” he answers, the veins in his neck straining.
I do know, but a sick, twisted part of me wants to hear him say it. I don’t know why I need the validation, I’ve never been that girl, but having Walker look at me the way he is, hearing him speak with such pain in his voice when it comes to me, feels too good to be true.
Quietly, I look down and say, “Because of my job.”
“Exactly.” He drags his hand over his face. “Hell, I shouldn’t even be here right now.” He glances out the window, as if someone is watching us. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
“I asked you to get ice cream, Walker. I can make my own decisions.”
“And you don’t need to fall on your sword for me.” He cleans off the top of his ice cream.
“We’re friends, that’s all. Friends get ice cream.”
“What else do friends do?” he asks, his eyes falling to my breasts.
A sharp intake of breath flows through my lungs. My body’s on fire from that seductive glance. The heat drastically turns up in the small space of my car and my arousal spikes as my nipples shamelessly poke against the fabric of my top, indicating exactly how he makes me feel.
“Um, friends go out to dinner,” I say, stumbling over my words.
“Yeah? What else?” He’s egging me on, his voice a naughty encouragement.
“See movies together.”
“What else?”
I swallow hard, my eyes landing on his lips. “They go to each other’s places to hang out. Play games.”
“What kind of games, Kate?” His tongue peeks out and slowly drags across his ice cream.
Oh.
My.
God.
His searing gaze, the intensity in his expression, the way his tongue swirls against his treat . . . I don’t know if I can handle him.
“Strip poker?” I ask with a gulp.
He zeros in on me. “Have you played strip poker with your friends before?”
“No.” I shake my head. “But I’m always open to new things.” I smile as his jaw works back and forth, his frustration with our situation evident. He’s not alone when it comes to being frustrated. “Have you ever played?”
“Never.”
“Me neither. And I don’t think we’re the type of friends who play strip poker,” I say, putting up a front, because if anything, I have to save some dignity.
But then he shifts, his chest flexing noticeably against the thin fabric of his shirt. “Nah, we wouldn’t need to play poker to strip, Kate.”
Oh, sweet Jesus.
Mother of God.
I’m in so much trouble.
I nervously laugh. “Oh, would we just strip and hang out naked? I’m not sure friends do that.”
“No, we wouldn’t just hang out.” His voice grows deeper. “We would fuck, Kate. All over my goddamn apartment.”
Okay.
This was a bad idea.
A very bad idea.
Any person in this situation would know I made the wrong decision taking this man out for ice cream. Secluding ourselves in this tiny car where the air is sucked out of the space the minute Walker starts talking about fucking isn’t wise either.
But . . . God . . . he’s probably phenomenal in bed.
An alpha.
Demanding.
Attentive.
Relentless.
Unlike any man I’ve ever been with.
I can see it in his strong hands, how his fingers lightly curl around his ice cream cone, the veins in the back of his hands popping. His grip would be powerful.
Possessive.
Addictive.
I could see myself craving his hold. Worshipping the way he’d demand nothing but my submission.
He finishes off his ice cream, popping the rest of the cone in his mouth, and stares at me, watching me closely
as I take lick after lick of my cone, nervously attempting to tamp down the boiling arousal inside my body.
“So . . .” I say, unsure of what to say. “Was your ice cream good?”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
WALKER
Was my ice cream good?
I barely enjoyed it sitting next to Kate as she slowly licked hers up and down. Being the red-blooded male that I am, all I could think about was my dick in her hand instead of the ice cream and her perfect little tongue swiping over the head of my cock.
I’m hard.
Hard as fucking stone as she finishes up.
This wasn’t the most intelligent idea I’ve ever had, but a small part of me is happy I came along, because it means another moment to spend with her.
“Ice cream was good, the view is better,” I say, blatantly taking her in.
She shivers under my gaze, unsure of what to do with my overt staring, but also not shying away too much as her eyes wander themselves. I’ve crossed a line tonight. A line I’ve been tiptoeing around. A line I couldn’t fucking help but leap over.
I want her.
Badly.
And for the life of me, I can’t stop myself from letting that be known.
“You can’t say things like that to me, Walker.”
“Why not?”
“Because.” She sticks the rest of her cone in her mouth and chews before saying, “It does things to me.”
“Describe them,” I demand, wanting to know exactly how I affect her, if this rabid feeling I have for her pumping through my veins is reciprocated or if I’m running solo.
Her head turns down when she goes to answer but I reach out and force her to look at me while she confesses. Her mouth parts and her chest rises and falls. Our proximity’s suffocating.
With my thumb, I gently tug on her bottom lip, reveling in how soft it is before pulling away.
“What do I do to you, Kate?”
Her eyes search my face, worry in those beautiful features of hers. “Do you—” She takes a deep breath and starts again. “Do you think this is smart?”
“No. But I want to know.”
“You . . .” She bites her bottom lip and looks away.
“Look at me, Kate.” Her eyes snap back to mine at the demanding tone in my voice. When she seems calmer, her eyes less frantic, I repeat, “Tell me what I do to you.”
She doesn’t answer right away, almost as if she’s too scared, but then she relaxes into her seat, maintaining eye contact as she leans back against the headrest, and she finally says, “You make me want more than I can have. When you’re around, I think about making bad decisions. I consider giving up everything I’ve worked for just so I can know what it feels like to have your lips on mine, to know how it feels to have your hand grip my ass and pull me close so I can feel how hard you are.”
Fuck.
“When you stare at me, taking me all in as if I’m the most beautiful creature you’ve ever seen, it gives me confidence, makes me want to strip down to nothing but my thong to see what reaction I would get.”
I clear my throat, my bones aching, itching to make a move, to pull her in close.
“And when you lick your lips, all I can think about is how that tongue of yours would feel against my body, dragging up and down my slick arousal as I beg for you to get me off.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I drag my hand over my mouth and look away. I wasn’t expecting such honesty, nor was I expecting to be sitting in her Toyota Corolla, my cock harder than I’ve ever thought possible, begging for release with no relief in sight.
“Shit,” I mutter and turn away. “You were right, we shouldn’t have done this.”
“No, we shouldn’t have.”
She shifts in her seat, hands gripping the steering wheel as her words settle upon us. Not just her words, but her unspoken desires that she just confessed. It’s as if she unleashed a giant pink elephant and set it between us, driving up the tension to inferno levels.
The longer the silence eclipses us, the stronger the pull feels between us. I glance at her thigh, wondering what she’d do if I reached out and rested my hand on it. Would she swat me away? Have a heavy intake of air? Would she spread her legs . . .
Before I can tempt the idea, she starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot at a faster speed than when she pulled in. There goes that fantasy.
Looks as though she’s the level-headed one between us.
We drive in silence back to the players’ parking lot. She parks next to my car, the only one left in the lot, and cuts the engine. She leans her elbow against the side of her door and props up her head.
“Life isn’t fair sometimes,” she says, her expression sad.
“It isn’t.”
She sighs and asks, “It would just be a fling, right? Some passionate nights and that’s it?”
“Is that what you think it is for me? A solid fuck?”
“Isn’t it?” she asks, looking at me.
“I think you know the answer to that.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t. I see the way you look at me, Walker, the desire in your eyes, but isn’t that all there is between us—desire?”
“No.” I grip the handle of the door and say, “It’s not just desire for me, Kate. It’s so much fucking more.” I open the door and step out only to lean back in, hands gripping the top of the roof. I let her eyes roam my body for a brief second before I say, “Thanks for the ice cream and the company.”
I shut the door, then retreat to my car. I don’t start it right away; instead, I lean back and close my eyes, reeling from the last hour I spent with Kate.
My body thrums with need and my cock presses horribly against the zipper of my jeans, reminding me that it’s been a long fucking time since I’ve been with someone, even longer since I’ve been with someone I actually care about.
What does that say about me?
That I’m fucking nuts.
My phone buzzes in the console, and I glance down at it, seeing Kate’s name flash across the screen. I look out my window to see her still parked next to me.
I open up the text.
Kate: You scare me.
For a moment, I consider hopping back in her car to talk in person, but think better of it. The distance and barrier of two car doors might be just what we need.
Walker: You terrify me.
Kate: It’s more than just passion for me, Walker. I hope you know that.
Walker: I do now.
Kate: If things were different, I would be in your car right now, tipping your seat back so I could sit on your lap.
Fuck. I squeeze my phone tight, hating every goddamn second of this purgatory I’m living in.
Walker: Kate, don’t fucking tempt me.
Kate: Can I ask you something?
Walker: Sure.
Kate: If things were different, if we didn’t have jobs to worry about, would you ask me out, or would you just try to fuck me?
Walker: Are you asking if I would try to date you?
Kate: Yes.
Walker: Honestly, I would’ve fought it for a bit, but in the end, I would’ve asked you out.
Kate: Where would we have gone?
Walker: No clue. I don’t date. Somewhere lame.
Kate: I don’t believe you. You’re thoughtful.
Walker: You give me too much credit.
Kate: Would you have kissed me on the first date?
Walker: Would you have let me?
Kate: Yes, I probably would’ve let you within the first twenty minutes.
Walker: I would’ve waited until the end of the night, building up the anticipation until you couldn’t take it anymore.
Kate: Would it be a goodbye kiss or the start of a long night?
Walker: A goodbye kiss, only to pull you back in and take everything I want.
Kate: What’s everything?
My body heats up as I text, my thoughts running wild with what I would want from this woma
n, what I would demand.
Walker: Your lips. Your tongue. Your moans.
Kate: God, Walker. What are you doing to me?
Walker: You tell me. Are you turned on, Kate?
Kate: Horribly so.
Walker: Then lock your goddamn doors and drive away.
Kate: I should.
Walker: Do it. Now.
Kate: Locked.
Walker: Good. Now leave.
Kate: What about you?
Walker: I need to catch my breath before I start driving.
Kate: Turned yourself on?
Walker: No, you did. The minute I see you, I’m turned on.
Kate: No one has ever talked to me like this before.
Walker: Then you’ve been hanging out with the wrong people.
Kate: With our given roadblock, looks as if I’m still hanging out with the wrong people.
Walker: It’s the story of my life. Have a good night, Kate.
Kate: You too.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
KATE
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I say, panting a little harder than I would’ve preferred, but sprinting down the halls of the stadium in heels isn’t easy. Traffic was awful getting into the stadium. It was so bad that I ended up parking in a random grocery store lot and taking the train the rest of the way. My tardiness has set off my entire day, putting me behind.
“That’s okay,” Vivian replies. “I’ve handled everything.”
I scan the room where the meet-and-greet for some YMCA kids is happening. Penn is tossing a ball back and forth with a little boy who seems to have stars in his eyes. Ryot is swinging a foam bat with another boy in the corner. There are a few players playing hot potato with some kids, and Brandon is coloring with a girl at the table I set up for that specific reason.
I planned this meet-and-greet last minute, and since there were so many kids coming, we moved the event up to the players’ suite to give us more room, but being here only reminds me of the game of baseball I played with Walker.
Speaking of which . . .
I scan the room. “Where’s Walker? I told him he was required to be here.”